Chapter 4 - THE QUIET ROOM
Stallone’s eyes moved toward the basement door.
“No.”
Eleanor stepped in front of him.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
That was the moment Stallone knew it was exactly what he feared.
He handed Olivia to Claire.
“Stay with her.”
Then he walked toward the basement.
Eleanor grabbed his sleeve.
“You are being theatrical.”
He pulled free.
“Marcus.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Come with me.”
The basement door opened with a soft click.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Stallone flipped the light switch.
Nothing happened.
“The bulb burned out,” Eleanor said.
Marcus reached into his pocket and turned on his phone flashlight.
Stallone descended.
The basement had wine racks, storage shelves, holiday decorations and a small room at the far end.
He had seen it before.
Years ago, it held cleaning supplies.
Now it had a chair.
Nothing else.
No windows.
No toys.
No lamp.
On the outside of the door sat a small sliding latch.
Stallone stopped breathing.
Marcus said quietly, “Sir…”
Stallone touched the latch.
It locked from the outside.
Eleanor remained near the stairs.
“She was never in there long.”
Stallone turned.
“How long?”
“Five minutes.”
Marcus shook his head.
Eleanor glared at him.
He spoke anyway.
“Twenty-seven minutes once.”
Stallone stared at him.
Marcus looked ashamed.
“I timed it.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I argued with her.”
“You opened the door?”
Marcus hesitated.
“No.”
Stallone stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Because she threatened to fire me.”
The sentence hung between them.
Marcus didn’t defend himself.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes,” Stallone said.
“You were.”
He looked around the room.
On the floor beneath the chair was something blue.
He crouched.
A plastic bead bracelet.
Olivia’s.
She had made it at preschool.
She used to wear it everywhere.
Three weeks ago, she told them she lost it.
Stallone picked it up.
His hands shook.
Upstairs, a child screamed.
“Grandpa!”
Stallone ran.
He took the stairs two at a time.
When he reached the living room, Olivia was crying in Claire’s arms.
Eleanor had followed him halfway up but stopped.
Michael stood near the front door holding his phone.
“What happened?”
Stallone demanded.
Michael turned the screen toward him.
“I called Sarah.”
Olivia’s mother.
Stallone nodded.
“Good.”
Michael’s expression was strange.
“No. Dad…”
“What?”
“She already knew.”
The room went silent.
Stallone stared at him.
“What do you mean she knew?”
Michael swallowed.
“She said Olivia told her about the dark room last month.”
Stallone’s face drained.
“And?”
Michael looked toward the driveway through the front window.
“She said Mom told her Olivia was lying.”
Headlights swept across the curtains.
A car door slammed outside.
Michael looked at Stallone.
“She believed Mom.”
The front door opened.
Sarah rushed inside.
Olivia saw her mother.
May you like
But instead of running toward her…
She stepped behind Stallone.
